


Pyroclast

by Matrya



Series: Names of the Damned [5]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Fire, Gen, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6395164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matrya/pseuds/Matrya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Runes for a man in ruins. // Lindsey learns that fire sets the ink, May '03.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pyroclast

**Author's Note:**

> ten minute fic about how certain things will always happen. that'll become more apparent, later.

He has a lot of reasons for this. The Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart took away some of the most useful years of his life. How can he let that slide?

Angel tried to talk him out of the voyage, when they were both still in Los Angeles. When Lindsey thought good things could happen in the world. Neither is true, now, and he finds some kind of comfort in that when he can.

Even around objection, Angel had given him the information to find the Christian monks who can do what Lindsey needs. Then, he had left before Lindsey could book a flight.

The entire sect is tongueless, murderous, fringe radicals with their own set of gospels. None of them are gentle, none know the Christ he learned of in Sunday School with itchy trousers and pinching shoes.

That could be for the best, because could men who knew _that_ Christ do the things that Lindsey needs done? There has to be a certain level of blasphemy in your heart to put the language of angels into skin and keep it there.

He needs them, if he wants to take down the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart. He needs a lot of things, to get the job done, but these are things with no substitution, no possible detour. Without the protection in his skin, he has no chance of getting in without getting turned into pieces.

Even with it, he has no chance of getting out.

So he lets the ink get driven into his skin and packed in. He lets them work until it almost stops seeping out and he hopes that the pain of the needle is the worst, that it is done.

He should have known years ago not to hope, that nothing strong comes without being forged.

When he finds out how they keep the ink there, he screams. Angel had told him the scars would be more than ink and hate; never will Lindsey learn to listen.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Memo:** I don't check comments or kudos, but feel free to yell at me on [tumblr](http://matrya.tumblr.com) or [check out](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Matrya) my other writing!


End file.
